


Switch Me On, Turn Me Up

by azephirin



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Age Difference, Bisexual Character, Blow Jobs, Casual Sex, Community: 100_women, Community: st_xi_kink, Crossgen, F/M, Female Protagonist, POV Female Character, Sexual Experimentation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-01
Updated: 2010-03-01
Packaged: 2017-10-07 15:29:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/66485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azephirin/pseuds/azephirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Switch me on, turn me up—oh, child of Venus, you're just made for love....</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Switch Me On, Turn Me Up

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the greatly mourned [](http://community.livejournal.com/st_xi_kink/profile)[**st_xi_kink**](http://community.livejournal.com/st_xi_kink/) and originally posted [here](http://community.livejournal.com/st_xi_kink/8893.html?thread=29783229#t29783229); also for my [](http://community.livejournal.com/100_women/profile)[**100_women**](http://community.livejournal.com/100_women/) [table](http://azephirin.livejournal.com/74095.html) prompt "lust." Title and summary from "[Ooh La La](http://new.music.yahoo.com/goldfrapp/tracks/ooh-la-la--31217739)," by Goldfrapp.

He smiles at her lazily, leaning back against the pillows. So cocky, and she knows it, but she's wanted him since she was old enough to know what that meant, and he knows it.

Joanna crawls across the bed to straddle him, throwing one leg over Jim's thighs and looking down at him. He just grins up at her, self-satisfied before he's even gotten inside her (today, anyway); she glares, but if anything, it just encourages him. She shakes her hair down around her shoulders; he reaches to tangle a curl of it around his finger, but she bats his hand away.

Unperturbed, he just raises his eyebrows at her and laces his hands together behind his head. Like he's daring her, the bastard.

Well, fine. She bends down, lets her hair fall forward, wraps a hand around his cock, and lowers her mouth to it.

"Jo, oh my God," he gasps when her lips and tongue make contact.

She looks up at him as innocently as she can. "Is there something you'd prefer I do instead?"

"No. God, no. I just...didn't know you wanted to do that."

She shrugs, feeling both brazen (naked with a Starfleet admiral, a man twice her age, a man all of her college friends would die to take to bed no matter their lip service about the military-peacekeeping complex) and ashamed (a week ago she was a virgin, a week ago she saved these kinds of thoughts for her shower and her solitary bed, a week ago Jim was nothing to Joanna but her father's friend). This time, when she lets her hair shield her face, it's not meant to be coy. "I wanted to try it," she says, more quietly than she'd intended. She's thought about it before—thought about what he would taste like, sound like, feel like in her mouth and under her hands. She thought about it well before they started doing this, whatever this is.

He leans forward and pushes her hair behind her ears. "Hey. It's OK. I was just surprised. You can do whatever you want."

"Do you want me to do that?"

"Do you really think there's a man in his right mind who wouldn't?"

She makes herself meet his eyes for a moment; then she looks back down, settling her gaze onto the safe territory of the periwinkle blue sheets. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” she admits.

“Have you ever done it before?”

Joanna shakes her head.

The expression on Jim’s face is fleeting, but she’s pretty sure he’s pleased. “Men aren’t that complicated,” he says. “It’s pretty hard to mess up.”

She lowers her head again, but then looks back up. He draws her close again, one hand stroking her hair, the other teasing at her nipple. She loves the feeling of being on top, of being just slightly taller, when they kiss. “I can tell you what to do,” he says.

She can’t resist. “And how would you know?”

His right hand moves away from her breast and starts to drift between her thighs. “I don’t think it’s bragging to say that, at age thirty-six, I’ve gotten a blow job before.”

“Just gotten? Not the other way around?”

His fingers find her clit then, and she can’t help gasping, arching her hips into his touch, as he strokes her. “What gossip have you been listening to?”

“Pretty much—oh, God—just what everybody in the Federation says. Jim!”

“Everybody, huh? Well, I’ll admit, I’ve given a few in my life, but saying more would be telling tales.” He stops touching her then, and she doesn’t lean so much as fall forward to rest against his chest and shoulder. He licks his fingers and murmurs, “Taste so good, Joanna. Remember how much you liked it when I used my mouth on you last time?”

It had felt amazing, that clever, mobile mouth kissing her where nobody but she had ever touched. She’d tried to bite back her cries, but they’d burst out when orgasm crashed through her—once, then again a second time, and even (she hadn’t really believed it was possible) a third, leaving her limp and exhausted, panting in Jim’s arms.

She blushes a little bit as she says, “I remember.”

“That’s how good it’ll feel for me, too.”

“I don’t think I can make you…you know…three times.”

Jim laughs and kisses her again. “That’s the bonus you get for being a girl.”

This time, when she lowers her head, she doesn’t hesitate.

She’d wondered how it would taste—was afraid that it would taste bad and that she wouldn't want to go through with it—but it’s not unpleasant, more or less like licking any other part of his body, just a little stronger. And even though she isn’t sure how to go about it, exploring is fun just on its own. Joanna runs her tongue up and down the shaft; the flared ridge at the edge of the head is inviting, so she licks that, too, and Kirk sighs. He settles back, and one hand goes to stroke her hair, winding a strand of it around his fingers. “The head is the most sensitive,” he tells her. “Just keep using your tongue—” She swirls it over the tip, and he gasps. “Yeah, God, like that.”

Joanna wraps her hand around his length and closes her mouth over the head. “That’s good,” Kirk whispers, and she wants to smile. “There’s a spot on the back, right where it meets the shaft—use your tongue there and I probably won’t remember my own name.”

She obeys, rubs with her tongue and knows she’s found the place when Kirk’s hips arch and his legs spread wider. “Like that, baby. Just like that.” She keeps at it, listening with satisfaction to his whimpers—but inevitably her tongue gets tired and she has to pull away. He’s panting a little as he says, “The slit’s another place—tongue’s good there too, or just suck on it a little.”

She does both, pursing her lips to suck at the small area (and ignoring the occasional ridiculous noises this makes, since Kirk doesn’t seem to care) and then flicking with her tongue once it’s had some time to rest. Kirk lets out a happy, definitive, “Oh, yeah,” which turns into a wordless moan when Joanna gets the idea to use her thumb on that patch on the glans while she plays the head and slit with her mouth. Kirk’s hand tightens in her hair, and she sees the other go to a fist in the sheets.

This seems to make him happy, so she keeps doing it. He props himself up on his elbows, and when she glances up at him, his eyes are avid as he watches her suck him. He strokes her eyebrow and her cheekbone, and says, “I bet you’ve got no idea how hot you look doing that.”

Joanna thinks, frankly, that she must look ridiculous, but she obviously doesn’t share this thought—for one thing, her mouth is busy with other tasks.

“Your body stretched out in front of me, your hair falling down around you, your lips wrapped around my cock—you look amazing, Jo. I want to fuck you until you’re screaming my name—but nobody in his right mind would tell you to stop what you’re doing right now.”

She takes a deep breath, opens her mouth to let as much of his cock inside as possible, and sucks as hard as she can.

The sound she gets from him isn’t quite a scream, but it’s close.

He thrusts up into her mouth, and she wasn’t expecting that—she coughs and jerks back. “Sorry,” he manages. “Sorry, sorry. That just— I didn’t realize that was coming.”

Jim tucks her hair behind her ear. She takes him back into her mouth, and she can hear his head thrash on the pillow as he moans, but his hips stay in place.

She keeps it up for as long as possible, listening to his nonverbal gasps and bitten-off versions of her name. She can’t do it forever, though: Her jaw starts to get sore and her mouth dries out, and she’s about to pull away, with regret, when Jim’s hands settle in her hair and he tilts her head gently upward. His smile is affectionate, but he’s flushed, his breathing quick, and Joanna feels a smile sneak its way onto her face as well—his composure is broken, the great Admiral Kirk, by a college freshman.

“Feeling smug?” he asks, not sounding particularly put out by it.

She decides not to answer—self-incrimination—and anyway her attention is drawn to the glistening pearlescent liquid that’s made an appearance on the tip of his cock. She remembers reading about this: men usually produce a fluid when they’re aroused but before they ejaculate. She draws her finger through and around it, and Jim closes his eyes again. “You have no idea how much I want you to keep doing that.”

“So why…” she starts.

“Because I want to fuck you more.” He takes her hands and pulls her up, arranging her so that she’s lying on top of him. She can feel his cock at the juncture of her thighs—it’s hard, hot, slick from her and from him, and when she wriggles against it, her own slickness answers, too. “You want to do that, baby? You wet enough to ride my cock?”

She doesn’t want to blush—how juvenile!—but she can’t help it: She does.

“Don’t be embarrassed. I want it too.” Somehow his fingers have found her clit and are circling it, light and knowing. “Mmm, so wet, Jo. That feel good?”

“Yeah,” she whispers.

“Good. Sit up a little.” She does, and he moves his other hand to cover her breast. His touch is just as expert on her nipple, and he plays her like an instrument until she’s shuddering on top of him. Jim pulls her down for a kiss. “You ready for me?” he asks her when they break apart.

In answer, she sinks down onto him, and he arches to meet her.

It’s not their first time like this—Jim seems to like women on top—but it’s still new, and they go slowly at the outset. He keeps stroking her, and it feels incredible—his cock thick and solid inside her, his fingers coaxing on the outside, around and against her clit, making her shiver and rock back and forth faster, harder.

She wants to outlast him, wring his orgasm out of him before her own mind has shattered apart, but she can’t—her cunt is tightening around him and his fingers are circling and rubbing and teasing until she wants to beg. But she isn’t going to, she isn’t going to—until of course he does something she never would have thought of, and takes two fingers of hers and sucks them into his mouth.

Joanna has no idea why this feels as good as it does—maybe because she knows what his tongue can do on other parts of her body. She watches his full lips as they move up and down on her index and middle fingers, and it’s like he’s the one giving her a blow job, all closed eyes and long lashes and supplication. She has a moment’s nonsensical thought that she wishes she had a cock so that she could put Jim on his knees and make him suck it—

And she comes then, crying out his name, her fingers in his mouth and his cock inside her.

Before she realizes it, he’s flipped them over, and now he’s driving into her deep and hard. Joanna wraps her legs around him and puts her hands on his ass to push him further inside because, God, she could so do that again—

Jim tangles his hands in her hair and tells her, fiercely, “Touch yourself for me,” and there’s her second orgasm, fiery and good.

It must set him off, too, because that’s when he comes, head thrown back, biting out her name and emptying himself into her. She holds him through the aftershocks, as he buries his face in her neck while his body jerks out the last tremors of his climax. He lies sprawled on top of her for a moment, both of them limp and panting—then he raises himself on both arms and grins.

Joanna’s known her whole life not to trust that grin.

He kisses her navel, and his mouth is about to make contact with her clit when she squawks, scandalized, “What are you doing?”

“If you make a mess,” Jim informs her, “it’s only polite to clean it up.”

He does. Thoroughly.


End file.
